


Praxis

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A moment of support.





	Praxis

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sort of a sequel to [Manage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193715).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek: Voyager or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“That’s it,” Tom groans, palming the hard jut of Harry’s hip, his other hand pumping furiously. “You’re being so good for me.”

Harry moans from the praise, his lashes fluttering halfway down but never quite closing—they’ve kept eye contact for this whole round, and Tom won’t give it up—he stares into Harry’s blown-wide pupils and hooks Harry into him. Harry grinds down harder onto his cock, bucks into Tom’s hand, so close to the edge—Tom can always tell—and he mumbles like a plea, “ _Tom_...”

“Do it, Harry,” Tom orders. Harry’s a good little ensign who always listens. “You’re doing so well... go ahead; finish...” He’s earned it. Harry bites into his lip and stifles a languid whine—the last four rounds probably strained his throat too much to scream again.

He comes across Tom’s stomach with a strangled, broken noise that takes Tom apart. It isn’t just the way that Harry looks, flushed and beautiful, slick with sweat and seed and even the little flecks of dried tears at the corner of his eyes. It isn’t the way that Harry sobs with relief, chest heaving and even his laboured breathing like a strangely erotic melody. The way he steadies himself on Tom’s chest, his thighs clinging tight to Tom’s hips, his body absolutely full of Tom’s cock—it’s _all of it_ : the total package that is _Harry Kim in heat._ It gets to Tom like nothing else. He has to bite down on the inside of his mouth to keep from knotting Harry up again. He just wants to stay buried deep inside, rooted to the spot, pumping Harry full of his cum until there’s no room left, for as long as he possibly can.

But it’s round five in a row, and Harry looks so _wrecked_ that Tom’s sympathy wins out. He knows his poor Harry needs a break. So he forces himself down and lets Harry’s convulsing channel wring out a smaller orgasm. Harry gasps, arching up and grinding down, as soon as Tom starts spilling into him. Harry stays on for it, rocking into it and riding Tom _so well_ , while Tom spills everything that he has left.

Even when he’s finished, Harry keeps bouncing. There’s more coherency in his eyes than there’s been for most of the evening, but he’s still noticeably fogged over. When Harry does finally slow to a stop, he looks just as ready to go again as he does to pass out from over-exertion. A part of Tom wants to keep going—wants to fuck Harry _all night_ , make him boneless and dizzy, take him apart on Tom’s cock. But Tom cares enough to set his ever-present lust aside. He knows that Harry needs a break. 

He squeezes Harry’s hip and gently guides Harry up—Harry wordlessly obeys, like he always does. Sliding out of the wet, tight heat of his ass leaves Tom hissing in regret, and Harry winces his protest, but it’s necessary. Harry settles down on the mattress instead, tight against Tom’s body, and gingerly shifts onto his side. His ass must sting too much to lie on. Tom tries not to look at it. Harry always gets to him, but Harry like this, fucked-open and caked in cum, is too much to take. Tom’s breathing hard too, just as sweaty and overheated, but he’s an _alpha_ locked up with a pretty little omega he’s always wanted, and his primal instincts just want to claim Harry irreparably. 

They’ve evolved enough to ignore that base instinct. Tom just lets it whisper on in the background as he lifts a hand to fondly brush through Harry’s dark bangs, unusually matted and messy. Black strands cling to his forehead in too many places, and Tom takes care in tucking them all back into place. Harry stares at him the whole time as though just waiting for the order to roll over and spread his legs again.

It leaves Tom chuckling affectionately, “You’re a virile thing, aren’t you.”

Harry blushes—an impressive feat given how flushed his delicate skin already is. His nose scrunches, but Tom chides, “It’s a compliment.”

With a sigh, Harry tries to move back, but he doesn’t get far. As much as Harry’s body burns against Tom’s side, too hot for how stifling the room’s become, Tom won’t let it go. Even as Harry mutters, “Sorry,” Tom squirms an arm beneath him, wrapping around his waist and tugging him back in. Harry glues against his side again, one leg even hooking over his. 

Tom presses a kiss against Harry’s forehead and promises, “No worries; that’s what friends are for.”

Harry tries to say something, but it’s cut off in a sudden yawn. It doesn’t surprise Tom in the least—it’s impressive Harry didn’t pass out last round. When the yawn’s passed, Harry mumbles sleepily, “Friends, huh?”

“Sure. What kind of friend would I be if I let my poor little omega buddy suffer through heat alone?”

He gives Harry a cuddle along with the statement, which broadens Harry’s smile. Harry still snorts, “We’re the same size...”

“Not when my knot’s inflated,” Tom quips, wiggling his eyebrows. Harry groans and tries to playfully punch him, but the hit’s so weak it’s laughable. Tom rewards him for the effort with another snuggle. Harry takes it with a weary grin and a muted hum. 

For a moment after that, they’re quiet. They settle in, just cooling down, neither reaching for all the many sheets and blankets that have been kicked aside, rolled up at the foot of the bed or pooled around the floor. Harry made a nice nest when they first started, but two rounds of frantic, feral sex broke the walls all down. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the disarray, or at least is too exhausted to comment. Tom pets him lightly while they lie there, stroking through his soft hair and along his arched back. Finally, Harry murmurs, “Seriously, thanks.”

Tom lifts a brow and doesn’t answer right away. It leaves Harry to admit, “I honestly thought it’d be a lot worse... getting a heat out here, so far from help, from all of Starfleet’s... y’know... _discreet amenities_. And there’s no real privacy on this ship...”

Tom nods in understanding. He knew the second Harry started heat—the whole bridge did. Tom could sense the _lust_ on all the other alphas—even their captain wanted him. But Tom knew he had to have Harry first. 

He tries to tone that down with a more light-hearted, “Eh, everyone knew you were mine anyway.”

Harry grins like he wants to laugh but doesn’t have the energy. Tom can’t resist leaning in to peck the corner of his lips. He repeats, “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure. Seriously.” And it really, really was—still is. Harry’s not exactly the type of omega Tom used to dream about when he was young, but from the first moment he saw Harry, he knew. Harry’s always been attractive, charming and clever and cute as all hell. But naked in his arms, covered in little red marks from his teeth and fingers and reeking of his cum, Harry’s irresistible. He’s everything Tom could ever want. 

Tom’s not _quite_ sappy enough to say all those things, but he thinks Harry might be able to read it in his eyes. When Tom thumbs the right spot behind Harry’s ear, touching him just where he likes to be touched, Harry purrs happily and nuzzles into Tom’s shoulder. His cock, still semi-hard, presses insistently against Tom’s thigh. It makes Tom wonder what Harry will be like when this is all over—the first day he has to limp back onto shift, the scent and memory of _Tom_ all over him and the ache still in his backside. He probably won’t be able to look at the helm without twitching. He looks down Tom’s body now, and Tom knows what he needs.

He mutters, “I can hardly move anymore... but, Tom... I _want_...” He doesn’t even finish, but it doesn’t matter. 

Tom gives him a long, hard kiss and murmurs, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He doesn’t just mean sex.

But right now, sex is what Harry needs, and Tom thoroughly and eagerly obliges. He rolls over onto _his_ omega, slots himself between Harry’s soft thighs, and sets in to start again.


End file.
